


Sweet-Toothed for You

by glowroom



Series: words in clips and phrases [5]
Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Drabble, M/M, post-sdr2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:28:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21662194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowroom/pseuds/glowroom
Summary: Ambrosial (adj.)1. Pertaining to or worthy of the Gods.2. Succulently sweet; balmy, divine.3. Hinata-kun
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Series: words in clips and phrases [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049753
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Sweet-Toothed for You

Komaeda had always been under the distinct impression that, ordinarily, people are always searching for something. Always looking for something, or forgetting something. There was always something to be missed.

He was also under the impression that, maybe, this wasn’t quite something he could fully relate to. Of course, it could be argued that he had, in fact, been searching for something. Because he was: an absolute, unadulterated, ultimate hope. But wasn’t that different from everyone else? Maybe, before, he had thought that this served as yet another reminder that he was different. That he was very unlike _people_. That it was likely he had more in common with a rodent. Or a maggot. Or a mound of dirt.

He never had been pursuing something in the way that other people were, after all, or certainly not the same kinds of things. As hard as it was to comprehend, not everybody strived for, or did things for hope. And Komaeda had certainly thought that he always would, that hope would have his full, undivided attention. He had never thought he might desire something other than that.

Yet, something new and fervid sunk teeth into him, as he came to the realisation that he found himself reaching out for something that he _definitely_ didn’t deserve. In the end, he could never have guessed that he would be searching for something so trivial, so uncharacteristically guileless. So stupidly, and ridiculously, ordinary.

Perhaps he had more in common with people than he had thought.

Tracing patterns with his hand in the sand where he sat, Komaeda sat hunched and cross-legged. Waves lightly lapped around his knees and sand-covered feet, erasing nonsensical patterns as quickly as he drew them. His residual limb rested in his lap – a personal reminder of despair. At least they had removed _her_ hand, but he still didn’t like to look at it. Looking at it had bits and pieces of people he couldn’t place circling in his mind. Long fingernails, glinting sword, pills and needles, the flash of a camera, alcohol on breath, red eyes. And a chain around his neck.

Not that he actually remembered those days. Not their time at Hope’s Peak, nor what came after, but he found that he could picture the despair pretty vividly. Would worm into his dreams most nights. He wasn’t exactly sure if they were memories squirming underneath the surface, threatening to chew their way through, or just images his imagination conjured up to torture him with. They felt sickeningly real all the same. They felt like bugs under skin. Crawling. The carnage he dreamt of was usually faded and forgotten morning come, but left him shivering in a cold sweat, stomach lurching all the same.

And so he couldn’t help but be a little pessimistic about the situation in which they had now found themselves – the waking up, the having to start again. Because before, when they’d wound up on that island, memories gone, he had almost welcomed the chance to start anew. It had apparently been some sort of miracle that he and the others could remember the Killing School Trip at all. He could so very clearly remember the hope to be found in a situation like that.

But ever since the Final Dead Room; ever since reading those files; ever since waking from the simulation, having to come face-to-face with everything that they had done, everything that _he_ had done… Komaeda didn’t have the right to a do-over. And now he had the _impertinence_ to long for― How shameful of him, how absolutely vile! Abandoning the patterns, thin fingers dug into wet sand, and a cracked smile curled his lips upwards. “Ahaha, you’re _awful_.” He scolded himself, voice part-way between a breath and a snarl.

“Sorry, I missed that. What’d you say?”

A beat of silence. Twitching slightly, the grimace dropped from his face, eyebrows rising just for a second before turning his head towards the voice of the man he had momentarily forgotten sat right there beside him. That ordinary, intriguing nobody. Komaeda drank in dark features as Hinata’s eyes searched his face, and he quietly shifted.

Upon waking up he had noted that despite being older, everyone looked pretty similar to how they did in the simulation, various physical by-products of despair (and Saionji’s ludicrous growth-spurt) aside, but there was something about Hinata that caught him off-guard almost every time he looked at him. Maybe it was the slight similarities to the way he had looked when he had been Kamakura, but he had the feeling it was something more than that. Besides, it wasn’t like Komaeda remembered much of Kamakura anyway. Apart from the obvious changes – the mismatched eyes, the prominence of his jawline, the broad of his back – he looked more… Komaeda never could quite place his finger on it.

Sitting together like this, he couldn’t help but think that the contrast between them must be grossly amplified – his pallid, sickly complexion looking pitiful in contrast to deep tan and caramel-coloured hair. He was entranced, enslaved perhaps, by the way the evening sun washed gold over Hinata, by the way it made him look almost angelic.

Komaeda never took himself for much of a confectionary kind-of-guy, really. He never did like the feeling of toffee on teeth, sugar on tongue, syrup down throat. But recently, Komaeda found himself thinking that Hinata seemed less like savoury and more like candy, and suddenly he was a bit sweet-toothed. Because Hinata is what Komaeda was searching for. And because Hinata was _ambrosial_.

“…Komaeda?”

“Hm? Ah yes, sorry, Hinata-kun. It was nothing.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading.
> 
> i might write more. i've written more sdr2 stuff in my notes on my phone than i have essays at university. smoking that danganronpa shit, think i got a fever. please, bring me cold towels. bring me my medicine.


End file.
